


Low Battery

by thrice



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, M/M, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-11 02:35:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13514910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thrice/pseuds/thrice
Summary: But there was always a reason. Perfection— a goal hovering over his head, believably out of his reach, because of a few comments or some criticism sprinkled in his replies.(Or a little drabble.)





	Low Battery

**Author's Note:**

> for [abigail.](https://mobile.twitter.com/iovebooth) love you lots. may sixteen years of living turn into something wonderful.
> 
> enjoy this ugly little draftjfj

Dan overworked himself sometimes. And Dan knew that Phil knew this, and that sometimes he hovered over him, sliding glasses of water and prompting him to take a break and slowly exhale it all out, because he just can't keep working. It wasn't healthy, and the further forth in time as it flew by, not even bothering to get up until he was completely finished with said video deepened the crease in Phil’s forehead.

But there was always a reason. Perfection— a goal hovering over his head, believably out of his reach, because of a few comments or some criticism sprinkled in his replies. Dan needed to be perfect, not even a smidge off of perfect, or everything will crumble to dust. It'll be nothing. He'll be nothing.

But he isn't _nothing_. A few words shouldn't distract him. “Please, you should walk around a bit.” Phil prompted, although it sounded a lot like begging.

“Hold on,” says Dan, and, “Just give me a second, I'll be done soon.”

He wouldn’t take his eyes off the screen, though. Seconds turn to hours which then turn to eons, a century. Behind their heads the clock tick-tocks, as if it's a warning.

“Dan,” Phil says. “Please.”

No response. Finally, Phil slides his arm around Dan’s arm and squeezes it, turning to look into his eyes, which had bags underneath them, making his heart pause a bit.

After a few seconds, Dan surrenders. “Fine, i’ll go wash my face,” and he's off to the restroom.

He hears the door slam shut, and Phil directs his gaze over to the luminescence of the computer monitor.

Dan had started at around noon, and the clock currently read 4:00, which meant he had been working four hours with one little break being taken. With the worry of messing up again and having to redo and retry and bury his face in his pillow, chocolate curls sticking out.

How do you say _this is perfect as it is_ to someone like him? You can't, but you can at least try and watch as he forces a smile, clearly not believing a single word.

How do you say _you're perfect as is_ to someone like him? You do, and you know that he doesn't believe it; the look found deep within his eyes, childhood dream realized but not fully registering in the recesses of his brain.

You can try, Phil knows, to say both. And you can try with that glimmer in your sea colored eye, and you could push without really pushing for so long until it is their duty to try and believe.

When he returns, not a single beat was missed. “Are you done with the video?” Phil says. “Have you finished by now?”

“Yes,” Dan responds.

“Can I see the finished product?” Phil asks him, and he says _yes_ and presses the digital play button, and lets his lips touch the sky with a grand smile as he feels his right hand being squeezed gently.

**Author's Note:**

> thrjce.tumblr.com


End file.
